Faithful Dead by Alys Clare

Author:Alys Clare [Clare, Alys]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781444716696
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2003-06-22T16:00:00+00:00

11

Geoffroi returned to Lewes in the spring.

The Lombard insisted on accompanying him; a man who stood fair to lose his heart (if indeed he had not already lost it), he maintained, ought to have a companion when he went a-courting, in case he lost his head as well and did something foolish that would land him in trouble.

Geoffroi, happy to have his friend’s company, gave way to the insistence with a smile.

He was much easier in his mind over leaving Acquin this time than he had been last December. The family had grown used to Sir Robert’s absence and it seemed to Geoffroi that, in some ways, life was now simpler and less painful for his mother, at least, now that she no longer had to live with the anxiety of caring for a sick and fast-sinking husband. His brother, Robert, seemed to be coping well with his new responsibilities. Geoffroi felt that Robert would not miss him if he were to go away on even a prolonged visit, since he clearly preferred to set about things quietly and alone, introspective as ever, and without going to the trouble of asking his younger sibling what he thought.

The night before he was due to leave, Geoffroi woke from a strange and intense dream. He was standing in a small, round room, a fire burning in a brazier and a woman all in white by his side. She wore a veil of some fine cloth which, while obscuring the detail of her features, yet revealed that her expression was one of grave concern.

In a narrow bed lay a sick person. When the dreaming Geoffroi tried to bend down to see who it might be, the woman shook her head and drew him away. Then she pointed at Geoffroi’s chest and said, Where is it? Do you carry it in the accustomed place?

And in his dream he felt – just as he had felt it as he carried it for those endless miles – the Eye of Jerusalem, pressed close against his breast.

He drew it out and held it out towards the woman in white. But instead of taking it from him, she stepped back, bowed her head and made way for him now to approach the figure on the bed.

Inside his head someone said, with absolute clarity, the Eye is yours to command. You know what you must do.

He was in the very act of holding the Eye over the burning forehead of the sick person – he thought it was a woman, or perhaps a youth – when a jolt ran through him, throwing him into a panic and waking him up.

Sweating, heart pounding, he shot up in bed.

It was a dream, he told himself, willing courage back into his veins. Just a dream.

But he found it impossible to lie down again with any hope of getting back to sleep. No matter how he tried to distract his thoughts, he kept seeing the Eye of Jerusalem; it was as if, having brought itself so dramatically to his attention, it was not going to let go.

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